


raise your cup

by FaultyParagon



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Angst, Childhood Friends, Drinking & Talking, Flash Fic, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, M/M, Pining, Romance, ThanZag - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27585962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaultyParagon/pseuds/FaultyParagon
Summary: Zagreus and Thanatos have a drink when Hades isn’t around. It almost feels like how it used to be- almost. ThanZag.
Relationships: Dusa & Zagreus (Hades Video Game), Thanatos/Zagreus (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 97





	raise your cup

**Author's Note:**

> I recently had Than take me on a date in Hades for that clumsy drinking session and it was _wonderful_. Also, my apartment is freezing, and so my fingers are too cold to type anything long, so here's this quick little piece.
> 
> (and yes, I still assert that Dusa was the one who made the laurel crown for him- I am never letting go of that hc. check out [wear your crown](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27232549) for context)

“Just a drink, for old time’s sake. C’mon, Than.”

Thanatos winces, eyes shifting away; he has so many things he needs to be doing, and sharing nectar with Zagreus is certainly _not_ at the top of the list- especially not when Hades could return at any given moment.

And yet, despite all of his willpower, Thanatos finds himself soon seated on recently-reupholstered seats in the lounge, his hand burning, each nerve ending reeling with bittersweet agony even though Zagreus’ fiery touch has already left him in favour of heading to the bar. In Zagreus’ wake, he flexes his fingers. They are warmed to the core; he wonders how long that shall last.

It shall have to last. He does not have the right to reach out, to beg for more of the heat he has craved all his life.

Dusa beams as he comments on the freshness of the lounge in an attempt to distract himself. “The Prince paid for renovations! It made my job a whole lot easier,” she giggles shyly before scurrying back to the rafters- before Zagreus can return from the counter to tease her for her timidity. He is grateful for that, for although he knows that Dusa will always love Zagreus as that little princeling whom she has watched over since her first days in the House, the pangs of what can only be called jealousy still cut deep into his heart each time he sees the duo interact before him.

Thanatos takes this moment of silence, this reprieve, to look at the figure leaning against the bar counter. Those shoulders have filled out more as of late, his chiselled back exuding power underneath his red garb; the laurel crown Dusa gifted him before he began this endless stream of escape attempts shimmers and shifts in the warm ambient light of the room, the metal almost melting amidst the fiery coal of the unruly black locks upon which it sits. Thanatos’ eyes trace his figure, his silhouette, against the bar, the at-ease stance- leaning bare elbows onto the counter, hips bent backwards, one knee bent, a smile ravishing enough to whisk away the heart of anyone who saw it- looking far too _human_ for anyone of the Underworld.

He does not belong here. And yet, Thanatos knows- this is where he is doomed to stay, forever.

He can only stare for so long, tearing his eyes away from Zagreus’ chiselled profile as the princeling brings back two large glasses of nectar. One is placed before him with all the charm in the world as Zagreus slides into the nearby seat, immediately raising his cup. “To the Fates,” he says wryly, eyes soft and bemused.

Thanatos responds in kind. His sisters are not to be trifled with, after all. He often wonders whether they had heard his childhood wish to remain with Zagreus forever, whether _that_ is the reason they have cursed Zagreus to remain in the Underworld for eternity.

He knows it isn’t true. The conditions of Zagreus’ survival as an infant go far beyond his own trifling desires.

…he still thinks about it, though.

But Zagreus _is_ here, and his smile is brilliant and his heart laid open for Thanatos to hold in his hands. And so, they drink, the sweet liquid sliding down his throat. He does not focus on the taste, no- his eyes merely lock onto the way the princeling’s throat bobs as he drains half his glass, the skin covering thick, corded muscle so frighteningly pale, so _human,_ in comparison to the strained, faded pallor of Thanatos’ own flesh. Zagreus is pale, but it is red blood which flows in his veins- red which matches the tapestries and the walls, the cushions and the doors, the River flowing endlessly just beyond the lounge doors. This place is inherently carved out of Zagreus’ flesh and bones, whether he realizes it or not.

And yet, he wonders idly as Zagreus begins to talk (he is always so talkative, no wonder Hades gets fed up with him- and yet, Thanatos cannot push him away, cannot shut him down, for the way Zagreus calls “Hey, Than,” at the start of each rambling thought makes the god of death weaker than anything else he has ever encountered in his life), just why he finds Zagreus so much more beautiful than the House of Hades could ever be, reupholstered or not.

Zagreus chatters away, his voice musical and lilting, far more pleasant to Thanatos’ ear than even Orpheus’ finest compositions. It is a blessing that the prince never expects Thanatos to speak up; after spending their whole childhoods together, they both know that Thanatos is more of a listening type anyways, although Zagreus will never know that that reserved nature only surfaces around _him,_ only so that Thanatos can breathe in more of Zagreus’ spirit, if but for a moment longer. Thanks to that, however, his mind is allowed to carry through these aimless thoughts to their conclusions, although he never likes the answer. How can he, when all roads always just lead back to Zagreus’ outstretched hand- that _heat-_

His attention is taken once again as that burning touch once again covers his hand, filling him with that very heat which he has no right to carry in his own deadened body. “Thanks for joining me tonight, Than,” Zagreus breathes, his own cheeks flushed and ruddy, evidence of the numerous glasses they have consumed during this intimate evening shared. “I- I missed this.”

_I missed you._

Thanatos stands, feeling himself stumble- whether it is from shyness or drunkenness, he does not know. What he _does_ know, however, is that Zagreus is beautiful underneath the light of torches, and the emerald in his left eye softens the severity of his father’s mark in the right, that green shining more beautifully than even the fields of Elysium.

“I’ll see you soon,” Thanatos whispers.

Zagreus smiles. Thanatos hates how wistful that smile is- it does not belong on Zagreus’ face. Zagreus should be every bit of the cocky, powerful prince of the Underworld he was born to be, not this gentle creature whose very touch could injure, and yet instead does nothing with that heat other than make Thanatos never want to let go.

He shall feel that touch again. Whether it is in the Underworld, or when Thanatos next wrenches Zagreus away from his mother’s arms, he does not know; either way, they shall meet again soon, those strong shoulders fitting perfectly into Thanatos’ arms as he lays the prince back into the River Styx- the leaves of a metallic laurel crown falling in coal-coloured hair shimmering before his eyes- a green eye accepting his fate without remorse- the _heat of his hands-_

It is the nectar, Thanatos thinks as he whisks himself far away from the princeling whose entire face screams how much he never wants to let the god of death go. That is the only reason he is flushed and flustered, giddy and fumbling- it is just the nectar.

**_-fin-_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment and let me know what you think!


End file.
